


Jackson's Dead

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M, it's MORE blackice than anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Jackson was one of the few children who believed in the Boogeyman as a child. He could get really scared, and just felt as though someone was watching him, or at least there making him feel that way. Jack reacted to his fear by trying to find fun and humor in everything, and he would actually talk to… whatever it was making him scared. Not telling “it” to go away, but having general conversation, saying things like: “I really need my sleep tonight. You can visit me tomorrow, though!” He always requested that Pitch leave his sister alone. Most of the village thought he was insane.Pitch was aware of Jack and often frightened him, but became fond of the boy after a while. He stopped visiting when Jack became adult, because he was troubled that he was now attracted to him. After Jack’s death, Pitch stuck to his word and didn’t visit Jack’s sister. She was traumatised enough, anyway.Go anywhere with this! It would be cool for some kind of relationship, pre or post-movie."Jackson Overland and Pitch alllllmost had a thing. Jack finds that out, but the implications aren’t really happy. One’s immortality isn’t just a continuation of one’s mortal life.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55
Collections: Blackice Short Fics





	Jackson's Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 4/28/2014.

“How much did you know about what was in my memories?” Jack asks one night as he finds Pitch skulking around a theater hosting a festival of classic horror movies. It’s only one of the many situations that Jack’s come to realize might draw both of them, but tonight’s the first time Jack’s seen Pitch in months.  
  
“Absolutely nothing,” Pitch replies, edging back towards the shadows of the alleyway. “And aren’t most conversations meant to begin with a greeting of some kind? Granted, I have been away from most company for rather a great deal of time…”  
  
“I wanted to make sure I got an answer before you disappeared,” Jack says, knocking a burned-out security light with his staff. The touch of magic causes it to flare to life, and Pitch glares at Jack from his ruined escape route.  
  
“So you’re just here to talk.”  
  
“Yeah, well, actually my idea was to have a conversation. You might try it sometime. Maybe it’ll help you get what you want better than, you know, other methods.”  
  
Pitch raises his eyebrows skeptically. “Have you been extolling conversation to the other Guardians?”  
  
“Actually, yes.” Jack steps a little closer to Pitch, casually calling up a breeze to play with the forgotten posters clinging to the back wall of the theater. “Anyway, I found something more than just my center in my memory box.”  
  
“Oh yes? What was it? Free travel-sized toothpaste and a sticker?” Pitch glances around, looking for the next nearest patch of deep shadow. Jack probably can tell what he’s doing, but, he reasons, all he needs to do is be _slightly_ faster and he’ll be home free.  
  
“I found out that I believed in you when I was a kid. I thought you would have remembered.”  
  
Pitch stops looking for an escape route and stares at Jack in consternation for a moment, before giving him his best nasty smile. “I remember Jackson Overland. Not Jack Frost.”  
  
Jack folds his arms, unimpressed. “You know I have different weak points now, Pitch.”  
  
Pitch drops the smile. “Naturally. Nevertheless, that’s the truth. Jackson was like you, but he wasn’t you, Jack. And I don’t say this to be cruel, now, but it’s the nature of transformation. We—that is, you Guardians all become different people when you’re chosen. Mortals, and mortal minds, can’t live like we—that is, you, do.”  
  
“But it felt—in the memories—that my center, or soul, I guess…was the same.”  
  
“The center is not everything there is to know about a person,” Pitch snaps.  
  
“Okay,” Jack says, refusing to respond in kind. “Why don’t you tell me something about Jackson, then?”  
  
Pitch looks away. “Jackson Overland was an ordinary boy who died as he was on the cusp of maturing into a young man astonishingly beautiful both inside and out. He had a smile for absolutely everyone and I made a promise to him once, which I kept. There. Now I’ve told you something.”  
  
“Kind of a lot, I think…”  
  
“Enough for you to understand why I don’t care to linger.”  
  
“But, you thought those things about me—”  
  
“I thought those things about Jackson,” Pitch says.   
  
“And what did he think about you?”  
  
“I think…he did not hate me.” Pitch frowns deeply. “No, I know he did not. But, well, Jack, you were born soon after I learned that. A win-win for the moon, really. My happiness prevented and a new Guardian chosen. Efficient.”  
  
“But…if we…felt that way about each other, wouldn’t it be better for me to be immortal?” Jack asks.  
  
“ _Jackson_ is still dead,” Pitch hisses. “And the moon either doesn’t understand or is crueler than I’ll ever be.” He edges out of the circle of lamplight. “Ask Sandy about Kozmotis Pitchiner if you want to know more.” He vanishes into the shadows, leaving Jack in the alley.  
  
He looks up to the waning moon. “Cruel?” he asks, but of course receives no answer.   
  
As he flies away, he resolves, from now on, to pay Jamie no more attention than any other believer—if he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> zinfandelli said: oh, ouch. that hurt quite a bit actually D:
> 
> tejoxys said: nO I hate the world, everything hurts. Goddamn immortals. Well done.


End file.
